East of the Sun and West of the Moon
by as twilight approaches
Summary: The end of the war left the Malfoys penniless and alone. When Narcissa becomes fatally ill, they have no one to turn to. But when the one creature who can help them names his price- Draco Malfoy- what will they do? Harry/Draco. Better Summary inside!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This story is based on the fairytale _East of the Sun and West of the Moon_. So if you know that story, you pretty much know how this is going to work. I know I should probably be working on my other two stories but I'm not, because I'm excited about this one.

**Warnings:** This story, so far, is told through different points of view. If switching narrator's bothers you, whatever. Expect as the plot picks up for one character to be narrating a much longer time than in this chapter. This chapter is simply to set the stage. :D Also, **this will be HARRY/DRACO**. It might take an ass long time for them to actually DO anything, but doesn't suspense just make it so much better?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters. I'm not making money.

**Summary**: The end of the war leaves the Malfoys destitute and alone. As they struggle to pick themselves up again, Narcissa becomes fatally ill. When the one creature that can cure her names his price- Draco Malfoy- what will become of them? Where did this creature come from and what does it want with Draco? And why does he seem so familiar?

* * *

**Lucius**

I love my son.

When I first learned that my wife was with child, I'd had no expectations. I was counting only on one thing: that it was a boy. I didn't expect nor desire to love him.

I had planned to live my life as those around me had envisioned it: all tradition, all clean cut and hard edges and nothing to cushion me if I failed. I had planned to tolerate my wife, maybe even learn to enjoy her company at times. Our marriage was to be a solemn affair, more business than anything else. Our marriage was about survival.

But I love my wife too.

I'm a proud man and admitting these two truths does not come easily to me, but they are vastly important.

I know exactly when I began to love Draco. It was the moment the mediwitch invited me into Narcissa's room. There she was, soft and glowing and trembling with fatigue, and in her arms was my son. He was red- the first and the last time I have ever seen him blush- and his face was scrunched up as if he'd had high expectations about the great big world and it had so far failed to impress him. Narcissa was crooning to him some sort of a lullaby and I watched as he drifted off to sleep.

It felt like the first time I had done anything by my own power. No one else had made that child or told us what he must be like- Draco was purely mine and Narcissa's. He would always be ours. I wouldn't allow anyone else to steal him or manipulate him or control him.

Narcissa gave me a sleepy smile from her hospital bed. I think it was the first time I'd seen her smile merely out of joy and not as a mask. She was sweaty and her nose was running and the fact that she wasn't perfect felt like a cup of hot tea on a cold day.

We don't speak of love, Narcissa and I, but if she ever asked I would tell her that that was when I first began to love her too.

That turned us into a family- and I feel perfectly comfortable chalking it up to her runny nose and the drool falling from Draco's mouth as he slept. If I had walked in to a wife that looked like a photograph and a son that looked like a doll… I don't know if I would have felt the same.

We Malfoys are perfectly happy tricking others into thinking we believe in perfection. I certainly enjoyed acting the part of the perfect head of the perfect pureblood household and I wouldn't have wished to be perceived in any other way. But Narcissa and I, we learned each other's shortcomings and follies, and so we learned to trust each other and work together and enjoy our imperfections. As long as it was privately done.

We always lived that way- privately, exclusively, us against the world- as if everyone who wasn't a part of the family was a liar and a traitor.

So when the Dark Lord rose again and the world flipped upside down, we were ready.

When the Dark Lord fell and the world turned on us, we held each other up.

I only hope that it's enough for her now.

**Narcissa**

I fear sometimes that my husband will never forgive himself.

I see it in his eyes from time to time, when he slips into the past and they go dark and stormy. Then he closes them, and when they open they are a mask- not eyes but ice.

He will not speak even to me of his regret, and he tells me most everything.

He will not speak of it to me but I know.

Lucius is not perfect, as much as he likes to pretend. He is an intelligent man, but he didn't always think for himself. When he was younger he did what he was told and fulfilled what people expected him to fulfill.

During his school years, his classmates told him to be prejudiced and violent. They turned to the Dark Lord and he followed like an idiot dog.

I don't think he minded so much what happened to him, or, when we wed, what happened to me. But then Draco was born and suddenly everything mattered very much.

We had a son, and we wanted the best things for him, but we were trapped in a dangerous circle from which escape meant death.

Above all things, Lucius always wanted Draco to be able to choose his future. But when Voldemort returned, Draco's future quickly became serve or die, as it was for us all.

If it is the last thing I do on this earth, I will see Lucius learn to respect himself again, as I have come to respect him.

**Draco**

Today was difficult. Father shut himself in the room with Mother and I could hear the low hum of their conversation all day. I was left to bide the time alone in the rest of the house.

In the manor I would have been perfectly fine. I could have read in the library or taken a stroll through one of the gardens.

In this dump, however, there really wasn't anything to do. There are two bedrooms, the smaller one is mine and the larger one is for my parents, although now Father is sleeping on a sofa in the living room. Mother worries about keeping him up, and he worries about making Mother worry, so it's best that he sleep elsewhere until she's better.

There is a kitchen, though we have little food in it at the moment. Once Mother's illness took a more serious turn Father and I became less concerned with such tasks as eating or sleeping.

Sometimes I get very angry, as I did today. If only we were still in the manor, still had money, still had connections. We wouldn't be in this situation, then.

As we are now- alone and penniless- I have little hope.

I suppose it's lucky that my family is still together at all. It could have been worse. One of us could have died in the war, or we might have been sent to Azkaban for the rest of our lives.

We managed to get off with a steep fine: so steep we had to sell the manor and nearly everything in it. And the only reason we got off that lightly, though I loathe to admit it, is thanks to Harry Potter. He was the last person I would have expected to come through for us, but he delivered a rather heroic and touching testimony in our favor that had the Wizengamot kissing his feet.

And so we're still all alive, and all together, but I don't know for how long. Mother is deathly ill and she is not recovering. The few healers who have seen us have all told us the same thing: her ailment is magical and it is eating away at her life force. It is rare and it has no man-made cure.

Her only hope lies in finding a phoenix, a unicorn, or a dragon. Those three creatures have ancient healing magic that humans can only dream of- it's just that they are incredibly hard to locate.

Father and I have been trying for weeks now. We immediately gave up the Phoenix as a pointless endeavor. A wild phoenix would never consent to heal a Malfoy (they're ridiculously noble and narrow-minded creatures, and only help those who they feel _deserve_ it. We aren't on that list.), and Dumbledore was the only man I ever knew of who kept a Phoenix as a pet.

I was both amused and saddened by the irony in that, but I suppose that Dumbledore would have died without my help anyway.

A unicorn would save her. A unicorn would probably have helped the Dark Lord himself- they are innocent and kind to the point of stupidity. But there are few unicorns left and they're very difficult to locate. I'm no virgin, and I'm definitely not a maiden, so attracting a unicorn does have its difficulties. On top of that, a unicorn would never leave its forest, much less journey through muggle London to pay a visit to my mother. Mother is simply too fragile to make a trip to a forest on the off chance that maybe we will find her cure.

A dragon is our greatest hope. They are far more intelligent than unicorns simply because they think in terms of power rather than in terms of good triumphing over the forces of dark. While a unicorn would heal my mother simply because it's the _right thing to do,_ a dragon would only help us if we helped him back.

They're very smart creatures, dragons, and they drive a hard bargain. They covet treasure more than anything in the world, and for a large pay-off, a dragon would deign to heal Mother.

We had treasure, once.

And that simple truth, that we _had _it, fills me with so much anger that my lungs burn with it and my eyes water.

As we are now, we have nothing to offer a dragon. We can't go off on an expedition to find a dragon with the healing magic anyway because we have to stay here with Mother.

I wish it was as easy as contacting the nearest Dragon reserve- there's a large one in Romania and a few scattered around South America and Africa- but none of those Dragons have the healing magic. Though still wild in nature, they've been tamed and have become dumb and useless as far as I'm concerned.

I'd need to find an old dragon. An old dragon that has been free for its whole life.

The problem is, the old dragons are very good at hiding and usually eat whoever finds them.

I sank into the sofa in the living room, sighing and massaging my skull. I could hear the baritone of my father's voice through the walls, and though I could not make out his words they felt chill, like death.

_I must find a way._

_

* * *

_

**AN: **There it is! **LEAVE A REVIEW GOD DAMNIT.** If I get a bunch of notifications for alerts and favorites and no reviews, I'll cry.

Also, if anyone has any ideas for a title, please tell me! I'm crap at titles so right now I'm just stealing the fairytale name.

Seriously.

**LEAVE A REVIEW.** Please. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Thanks everyone who reviewed. I'm glad you liked my Malfoys. :] I'm not making any money on this, by the way! --- sneaky disclaimer.

* * *

Hot…

Hot.

_Hot!_

Burning from _inside_

Boiling, churning, building,

The world is filled with smoke.

How am I not dead?

I want to lie down and _let the fire consume me._

Something pulls me, _dragging_.

I am not my own.

* * *

**Draco**

I pulled myself up from the sofa, smoothing down my trousers and tugging my hair into place. Sitting in this house alone all day would accomplish nothing. I'd been avoiding my obligations to the outside world for far too long.

Yes, Mother needed me, and Father needed me also though he would never tell me so. But right now, they needed money more. We all did.

It was time to go back to work.

I scribbled out a quick note and left it on the kitchen table, slipping out of the tiny house before I had time to regret the absence of house-elves who would have relayed the message for me.

_Father,_

_I regret having to leave, but you know it's necessary. Tell Mother if she calls for me. _

_I'll be back this evening with dinner._

_Your son,_

_Draco._

I didn't have to write how I felt on that note. I knew my father would understand.

I needed to do something- anything. I couldn't go searching for a dragon because I was needed at home, but I could return to work regularly.

With enough money, I could get someone else to do the dragon hunting for me.

I closed my lips and hummed, focusing on the tickling sensation and trying to forget what I was leaving behind me. Thinking about it only instilled the irrational fear that I would return to a very different, very dark and very lonely home.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I burrowed into the thronging crowd and shoved past a sea of mundane faces. No one gave me a second glance.

My lip twitched. I fit right in with the muggles, now.

And I suppose there is not reason why I wouldn't. It's not as if I have some sort of supernatural glow or a sign hanging over my head announcing my powers.

I was dressed in muggle clothes: a grey jacket over a white cotton shirt paired with dark jeans that were about a size too large. I had always been one to prefer a tighter fit (as the saying goes: if you've got it, flaunt it) but recently I'd learned the true meaning of another saying: beggars really can't be choosers.

I wore my hair short and simple. It was easier to maintain than the ridiculous flowing locks of many contemporary wizards. My face, while handsome (I've never been particularly humble and I see no reason to start now), is not excessively distracting unless I want it to be. With my head bowed down I get maybe a few second glances, but nothing more.

The point of view is so different now. I remember when I walked with my nose straight up in the air. A little pompous fool, I thought I knew what was important in life back then. I thought that I had everything figured out, and whatever I missed someone else would figure out for me.

Sometimes I wish I could go back, but not often.

And not now.

My feet ground to a halt in front of a shabby but nondescript building. None of the muggles gave it a second glance due to a few charms, but frankly I think that if it had been in plain sight no one would have bothered with it anyway. The wooden door opened with a creak and a small bell jingled as I entered.

"Hello, Tony," I said, nodding towards a portly man sitting on a stool behind the counter. He was reading the newspaper, as usual.

"Draco!" He said in a booming voice, and smiled. "I didn't think I'd see you around here for a while yet. We could use some fresh hands in the back, the lot in there now can't tell a toadstool from a turnip. Is your mother on the mend, then?"

"No, she's still quite ill. But we agreed that it would be best for me to return to work," I said with a sad smile. Tony is uncomfortable with the idea of keeping ones emotions to oneself, as evidenced by his drunken blubbering at work the day after his fiancé left him for her beautician. If I don't throw in the odd emotional expression, he badgers me to 'let it out.' He's a nice man, Tony, but not the most sophisticated.

Tony laid down his newspaper with a sigh.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Draco. I'm sure things will pick up soon. We're living in the age of discovery, you know," he gave me a long, deep look in an attempt to commiserate.

Though he has a very different style from the people I used to associate with- death eaters or Slytherins or both- I've come to deeply appreciate Tony. He's one of the few genuine people I've met, and so I returned his deep look and let him commiserate.

"Anyway," he continued after the 'moment' had ended, "there's a lot of work to do in the back. Just got a huge order of Dreamless Sleep potions and of course we're behind, what with the load of ninnies I have for employees."

I nodded, relaxing. I could probably brew a Dreamless Sleep potion after having taken one myself. My skills as a potion brewer far surpassed what was required in Tony's shop, but there were very few people who had been willing to hire me. I was grateful to have a job at all.

I crossed the room towards the workshop door, passing behind Tony's desk on the way. It was then that I caught a glimpse of the newspaper's headline.

"What's this?" I asked harshly, jabbing towards the paper.

"It's the news, Draco. Been all over the papers for more than a week now. I suppose you've just been more occupied with your home life… would you like to read it?"

I hastily snatched up the paper and carried it off to the corner. I don't know why I was so perturbed; maybe I couldn't deal with the outside world falling apart in addition to my home life. Maybe I'd been counting on the rest of the world proceeding as planned.

But there it was, that headline, and I read it with hungry eyes.

**BOY WHO LIVED STILL MISSING**

I set down the Prophet for a moment, and rubbed my eyes before flipping the paper back over.

**BOY WHO LIVED STILL MISSING**

Still there. The headline flashed across my mind like a meteor and left a trail of fire. I don't know why I was reacting so strongly.

Maybe I couldn't take everything crumbling all at once. The knowledge that Potter was out there somewhere, living the good life and being a general pain in the arse had always been somewhere in the back of my mind. He was a constant. A constant annoyance, maybe, but a constant.

A constant that was suddenly very… gone.

I became aware once again of Tony, who was fixing me with a sad gaze.

"The whole wizarding world has been taking it pretty hard," he said quietly. "You really didn't know?"

I shook my head numbly, my hands making fists around the paper.

"What happened?" I asked. I didn't want to read it. I don't know why.

Tony leaned forward in his seat, his voice taking on a hushed tone.

"That's the thing- no one really knows. No one has any idea. Not his friends, not his colleagues… no one has come forward. One day he's on top of the world… one of the best aurors, one of the most eligible bachelors and one of the most respected men in the world. The next day, he's just gone. No note. No sign of a struggle. Nothing packed. Just gone. Vanished."

I tried to answer, but my throat had gone dry. I swallowed thickly.

"And there aren't any leads? No one taking credit?"

Tony shook his head, leaning back against his chair.

"None," he said, and he sounded just as worried as I felt.

* * *

Night fell and the world was in order

Morning came and the world was on fire.

_I would rip the heart from my chest if I could…_

But something drags me onward.

Motion without meaning

I don't know where

Or what

Or why

I am.

I must find …

I can't think…

I can't think… through the fire…

* * *

**AN: **There it is! Not a very long chapter but I hope it got you a little bit curious. I don't think that the style of this story lends itself to very long chapters, but good news- writing it is pretty quick work. :]

I don't have a Beta so I make mistakes and don't catch them. Sorry!

**AND REVIEW! I know you're reading this. Yes, you. Even if its just to say that you read it, please REVIEW. **It makes me want to write so much more. :]

Thanks to you guys who reviewed last chapter!

FORMATTING IS DRIVING ME CRAZY, by the way. This doesn't look how I want it to but I can't to agree. :[


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **Here it is! Sorry for the delay. :] But I'm a second semester high school senior so in between college visiting crap, homework, choir, the school musical, and that thing called my social life I don't always get too much time for writing. Sorry! And to top it all off, I got food poisoning. So this time I wasn't just being lazy. :] It's the third chapter and I'm still loving this story so you can expect pretty frequent updates, schedule permitting.

Thanks for all the reviews!

* * *

**Draco**

I swallowed again, solemnly replacing the paper on his desk. Potter wouldn't simply go missing by his own accord. Nor would he go missing without some sort of a fight. Whatever was happening, it must be big. I grimaced, tugging fretfully at my shirt. Some way or another, whatever was happening would reveal itself soon. Nothing involving Potter was ever a secret for very long- And I had the feeling that when the situation did reveal itself, it would stir up all the old rivalries and make it that much more difficult to find a cure for Mother.

I cursed quietly under my breath. Yes, for some strange reason I felt concern for Potter's disappearance, but I also felt contempt. Right now I needed to world to be coming together, I needed people to start moving on so that when they heard a Malfoy was dying they wouldn't think she deserved it. So that when they heard a Malfoy was dying, they'd want to help.

But if someone had captured Potter it would send the world spinning backwards, as if no time had passed since the day after the Dark Lord's death. No one would help us. We would get the blame, somehow.

We always did.

I closed my eyes, pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind. If there's one thing I pride myself in, other than my good looks, intellect, natural charm, and excellent lineage, it's my ability to compartmentalize. Right now I needed to focus on work and nothing else.

As soon as I entered the back room, a strong smell like pickled beets stung my nose and made my eyes water. I don't know what Terrence and Bianca were brewing, but something that smelled like that was putting _no one_ to sleep.

Bianca, a short sprightly girl with red cheeks and thick brown hair, waved to me as I walked in.

"Oy, Draco! Am I ever glad to see you… We're supposed to be making dreamless sleep potions, but I think the recipe is wrong," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. She grabbed an old, musty looking book from the work table and flipped it open to a book marked page.

Terrence was hard at work stirring a bubbling cauldron on top of a raging fire, and a sheen of sweat coated his dark skin. He spoke without bothering to look up, his blue eyes fixed on the ladle:

"We're doing exactly what the book says," He grimaced, wrinkling his nose as a pungent red smoke began to rise from the cauldron. "And the stink alone could knock anyone out."

"Yeah," muttered Bianca, "and it'd probably give them nightmares…"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The back room rarely smelled pleasant, but today's odor, combined with the humid heat, was especially unbearable. I reached for Bianca's book.

"Let me have a look at it," I said, "I've brewed this potion enough times to know this isn't how it should smell."

Without warning, Bianca threw me the book, which hit my chest with a _whump_ and caused me to expel all the air in my lungs.

"Sorry," Bianca said sheepishly over my wheezing, "I thought you were ready."

I waved my hand in dismissal and managed to take a deep breath before looking at the potion ingredients.

It was indeed a dreamless sleep potion, but the ingredients were a rather rudimentary sort that hadn't been used in most potions in years. I quickly flicked down the list- and yes, as I suspected, the potion had beets. Good for the blood and heart, not necessarily beneficial to sleeping.

"This recipe," I said, looking up at Bianca and Terrence, "Is _so_ outdated you could sell it to a museum as a relic."

I closed the book and glanced at the cover.

"As a matter of fact, we _should _sell it to a museum. It's the only way it'll make us any money at all."

Bianca crossed towards me and snatched the book back, looking thoroughly put out. Terrence, on the other hand, stopped stirring with a sigh of relief.

"I am glad to hear that," he said with a grin, "it smells like death."

Bianca frowned, setting the book down tenderly on the worktable.

"But Tony gave this to us to use," she said.

"So?" I asked, "Why do you think Tony hired us? He's shit at potions."

"But I feel bad for it," said Bianca, "It's-"

"Oh, shut _up,_" said Terrence, "It's a book for god's sake. It doesn't have feelings. And didn't I _tell_ you it was outdated!?"

"But Tony-"

"Yes, alright, we know! Enough about Tony!"

I looked from Terrence to Bianca blankly. They _must_ be joking. Of all the ridiculous and stupid things to have developed while I was at home with Mother…

"What?" Bianca asked, her voice small sounding.

I cleared my throat, turning my attention back to the sludgy cauldron nearest to me. "Nothing at all," I said, but I could feel a sadistic amusement bleeding into my words. Honestly- _a love triangle_? It was just the sort of cliché I'd have expected in a cheesy Muggle romance film, but not one I'd expect to be working in the middle of. Especially one in which Tony was Bianca's object of adoration and indifferent Terrence had suddenly spawned emotions. He was looking at her much the same way Potter used to eye his treacle tarts before shoving them down his throat…

I shifted my stance, rolling my shoulders. I had, quite suddenly, become slightly uncomfortable. I suppose it was because Potter was missing and here I was violating his-

I pursed my lips, directing my thoughts back to Terrence and Bianca.

Yes, I was here to work, but sometimes putting up with these imbeciles was so _difficult. _I liked Tony, certainly, but he really was shit at potions and Bianca and Terrence weren't that much better. I deserved to be at one of the top potions shops, not in this shack. Hell, with my skills, I deserved my own shop.

But no one would buy from me, and I knew that. So I rolled my shoulders and pushed away my frustration. I was here to work.

"Alright," I said calmly, "We'll start over. I need Valerian Root, Passion Flower, Lavender…" I began, and Bianca and Terrence scurried towards the ingredients cabinet. I silently prayed that Tony was supplied with everything we needed.

I vanished the contents of the cauldrons and started chopping the ingredients that were already on the table. I allowed myself to fall into the rhythm- chop, measure, pour. I felt truly relaxed for the first time in weeks.

I'd forgotten how much I love to brew.

Of course, I knew this new-found and precious peace of mind would only last a few moments. Soon Tony would walk through the door full of all sorts of good intentions and bad ideas. Then I'd have to deal with Bianca's drooly puppy-dog eyes and Terrence's passive-aggressive insults.

And, of course, this potion would only keep me focused for so long. It was too simple. My fingers yearned to measure and stir and _craft_ something wonderful. Something complicated and rare and dangerous- something that would never be needed at Tony's shop. I could only stretch my wings so far here, and I knew that. But what could I do? At least I had a job.

***

Even though the potion was a simple process and quick to make, I didn't get back home for a few good hours. Tony had been kidding when he said he'd received a huge order. I had no idea what anyone intended on doing with that much Dreamless Sleep- but I didn't care. My wallet was fatter and that's really all that mattered.

I allowed myself a small smile. Tony really was a good man. He didn't make me wait until pay day. He knew I needed the galleons. And, since I was paid per potion, today had been surprisingly lucrative.

When I got back home I was greeted by my father in the living room. He had the look of a man who'd gone too long without sleep: dark circles under his eyes and a pale, waxy complexion that was abnormal even for him. But under the fatigue were a soft thrum of excitement and the tiniest of smiles.

Good news, then.

* * *

**Lucius**

After Narcissa had fallen into a sleep, weak and fitful though it was, I retired to the living room to await my son.

I care for Narcissa deeply, but watching her disintegrate like this is sometimes more than I can stomach. It's a nasty disease, chewing away at her core and rotting her from the inside out.

I was happy to see my son and to remember that not everything was quite so dire. No matter what happened, Draco and I would still have each other. And if it was a quiet, more sullen sort of existence… Well, I would not give up. I had promised Narcissa, long ago, when I was first confronted with the tragedy of my choices. I will live with what I have done.

And if my life is dirty and terrible, and if she has left me alone, I will continue to live.

It is no more than I deserve.

Perhaps it is selfish, the way Draco and I cling to Narcissa. I know she is in pain. I know she finds much of our life unbearable. But I hope that she feels as I do. I came quite close to asking her, but it is not something we have ever spoken of and I do not feel that now is the appropriate time given her condition.

Or perhaps I am afraid of her answer because I know I am not worth surviving for. Not when all that has happened to us is my fault.

I rubbed my temples, letting my eyes drift close. It is due to fatigue that I am having such thoughts. I have never been known for being honest. Not even with myself.

I rose to my feet, denying myself the comfort of the couch. I needed to maintain a clear head. It was quiet in the house, a bone-crunching quiet that made a man feel alone in the universe.

But then, it had been this quiet in the manor. At times, it had been this quiet during the war- just after the end of a Cruciatus or right before firing Avada Kedavra.

From down the hall I heard steady, shallow breathing.

I smiled, though it did not show on my face.

Narcissa had not made any objections to our finding her a cure, nor had she expressed any desire to simply let the disease run its course. That was enough for me to decide that she did not desire to leave us behind, no matter our life now.

And I would do anything in my power to save her. We knew the cure; it was only a matter of possessing it. And I had received an owl that morning that brought me to the very doorway of hope. I had not yet mentioned it to Narcissa. I didn't want to raise her hopes unnecessarily.

I would tell Draco, and we would pursue it, and when we told Narcissa it would be definite and we would be free of the shadow this disease had spread over our household.

It was upon reaching this conclusion that Draco walked through the door.

"Draco," I greeted, hands clasped behind my back.

"Father," He said, bowing his head. He was tired- I could hear it in his voice. We were all tired.

"I received an owl this morning concerning your mother. It looks promising." I kept my voice even and rested my weight firmly on my heels. I find no need to make a show of my emotions. Those who know me well enough will be able to deduce my opinion, and among acquaintances I find it gives me the upper hand. I have trained my son to carry himself with the same air of indifference. It is often invaluable.

"Is that so, Father? What manner of news?" Draco asked. He sounded politely inquisitive and nothing more, but there was a gleam in his eye. I could feel my heart burning with pride.

"There is man with a Phoenix who expressed an interest in helping us. There is a price involved, of course," I said, allowing my distaste to color my words. It was a very high price, and the man probably knew we had no alternatives thus far.

"I plan on returning to work tomorrow. Tony said I can work every day but Sundays."

I strode forward, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. I could feel him relaxing into my touch, and he bowed his head again.

"It is not so bad, Father. The potions are not challenging and Tony pays honestly."

And though it pained me to see my son relegated to such a mundane role and denied the opportunity to test his horizons, he understood the necessity and made no complaint. He is a good son.

I squeezed his shoulder lightly before exiting to check on Narcissa.

_Thank you._

* * *

I move through the air with purpose.

I do not know where or why this Purpose exists,

But I feel it

_Pulling._

And with it,

Hope.

I was a man, once.

I _know_ hope.

* * *

**AN: **So we can call this the chapter-where-not-very-much-happens, or we can call this the I-had-fun-writing-it-anyway chapter. And you know, this stuff is important to setting the scene and the development of characters! :D

I promise you guys meet the creature next chapter, though. And things get very exciting. :] I'm excited already.

On a side note, no one has complained about it but I feel the need to apologize anyway. I totally botch tenses sometimes, especially when the writing is all broken up. I'm going to say it's poetic license. Now that I apologized for it, don't go hunting for all the mistakes!

**OH AND REVIEW. I'll give you guys little Draco dolls. :D And BEET POTION FOR ALL WHO DON'T!** Yeah, that's right, no more mrs. nice girl.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN**: Oh, I'm so speedy! I had a lot of down time again since I missed school and I felt like leaving you guys with a little more action-filled chapter. This should make up for the long delay before the last update. :]

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**Draco**

For the next few days, little changed. I went to Tony's shop during the day, and in the evening Father and I would discuss our options.

The man with the Phoenix still seemed to be our best bet, but it was a narrow chance. The price he was asking was immense. I had to wonder whether he was aware of our recent lack of funds.

I pored over the numbers several times. I'd have to work for years to pay it off- or we'd have to sell our house and all our remaining assets. And what if he demanded the entire payment at once?

The best choice would be for me to pay it off by working, but the thought of spending years in that cramped back room descended upon me like an iron cage and I could feel my heart quicken with trepidation.

It wasn't until that Sunday that anything changed.

Father and I were once again in the middle of a deep discussion- he thought he could return to work as well once Mother was cured. I didn't have the heart to tell him that though he was capable of working, he wouldn't find a job.

Night had fallen thickly, like black paint over the houses, and through the window the trees looked very still. My father was pacing back and forth almost feverishly, his neatly tied hair loosening into disarray.

There was a noise outside, then. A soft noise like the rustling of cloth followed by a tap-tap-tap reminiscent of a dog walking on cement.

My father stilled, looking first at the door and then towards me.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, and his tone was wary.

* * *

**Dragon**

It is time.

I know.

In the cover of darkness,

I answer the call that has been singing through my blood

Like fire.

I know what I must do-

With the pale one,

Hope.

* * *

**Lucius**

I froze, eyeing the doorway. One can never be too wary, especially when one has so many enemies as I. It would not be the first time my home was under attack. I motioned Draco away from the door with a movement of my hand before closing it on the soft, worn wood of my wand.

There was a soft thump and the door creaked quietly. Then all was still.

Too still, I thought, and the night too dark. The street lights were out.

I drew in a deep breath, and in the quiet I could hear it rattle into my lungs. Draco wet his lips, his wand also drawn and his eyes focused on me and waiting for a cue.

Without further ado, the cue came. The door gave another creak before exploding into splinters and shards with a deafening crunch, taking a chunk of wall with it. I narrowly missed receiving a handful of plaster to the face and I could hear Draco yell in surprise. My thoughts immediately flicked back to Narcissa, asleep in her room. We would need to keep whatever this was away from her, keep it from entering any further into the house.

I raised my wand, eyes narrowing. And what exactly was it? All I could see was a hulking black shadow looming in the doorway, and the gleam of two fierce eyes.

It put one leg into the room, and I could see the vicious talons and the scales that sparkled like shards of obsidian. _A dragon._

I could feel my fear subsiding and a low, burning hope take its place. A _dragon._

It stepped forward, taking more of the wall with it as it entered our living room. It had always been a cramped space, but the dragon was like a black hole that seemed to expand to all corners of the room. I felt, for the second time in my life, very small.

Draco's wand was still raised towards the dragon, a wary expression on his face. We both watched, unsure of what next step to take.

The dragon lowered itself down as if in apology for its size, but made no other movement. It seemed to be gathering its strength for something, but I was unsure what. I backed away further and motioned for Draco to do the same.

The dragon looked from me to my son, the ridged spikes framing its face catching the light. And when it opened its mouth, I was braced for the cruel heat of fire or the sight of its teeth closing on flesh. I was not prepared for the low rumbling- of words.

* * *

**Draco**

A dragon. In the middle of Muggle London. In my living room. Of all the _ridiculous_ answers I had dreamed up to our situation, this had not been one of them.

And it wasn't just any dragon, I noted. It was a Norwegian Ridgeback- dangerous from its ripping claws to its mace-like tail. I tightened my grip on my wand. If Potter could defeat one of these in fourth year, then I sure as hell can as an adult.

It opened its mouth and I crouched low, ready to spring away from a column of flame. It was not fire, however, but words that came from the dragon's mouth.

"I have… what you need…" It said, its voice like rocks tumbling against each other. I could tell speech was difficult for it. Its lips rippled in an attempt to frame empty growls into vowels and its tongue slipped around its teeth like a snake- but it was clearly speaking.

"What?" My father asked, clearly surprised.

The dragon closed its eyes and took a deep, hissing breath before talking again.

"I have… what you need…" It said simply, "…The cure."

My father's arm dropped to his side like a puppet with a cut string. I could see the hope bubbling over into his eyes. He wanted this to be true too much- he was blind to the potential dangers of the situation. First of all, the dragon might have the cure, but no dragon had ever given anything away for free.

Before I could ask the dragon's price, it was speaking again.

"I have… what you need… I will bring you… perfect health… and great fortune. Your luck… will change." The dragon swung its head towards my father in a direct address, "All I need… is your son…"

* * *

**Lucius**

The words hit me like bolts of lightening, too good to be true. I could see my hopes coming to fruition before my eyes and I could have laughed with the joy of it- Until the dragon named its price.

And then my hopes came crashing back down into nonexistence, sucked into the blackness of the dragon's scales.

_My son. _

I did not speak. I could not, not with the anger drying my throat and thickening my tongue.

The dragon's fierce eyes fixed on mine for a long moment without blinking, and then, thinking I hadn't answered because I had not heard, it repeated itself.

"I will bring you perfect health," it expelled in one teeth grinding attempt, "Great fortune… Your luck-"

I found my voice again quite suddenly, flooding into my mouth like bile.

"_Absolutely not," _I said, my voice low. I did not need to raise it for it to vibrate across the living room. "You _can not_ have my son."

The dragon reared up as if hit, and took a step backwards. It had clearly not been expecting a refusal.

"Father," Draco said quietly, "Let me decide."

I turned towards my son slowly, surprised by his sudden rebellion. His expression was stubborn but open. More open than I had seen in some time.

"It is out of the question. I will not _trade_ one family member for another."

I could not. I had sworn to keep Draco safe at his birth. I had _sworn_ that no one would ever steal or manipulate him. I had failed that promise once, but never again.

Draco gave me a soft look and I could tell he had a waterfall of words waiting to be spoken. Explanations, probably, rationalizations as to why I should sacrifice him for his mother.

But he chose his words carefully, and they were simple:

"Father, let me go."

"_No._ It is not even a topic of discussion," I said, my voice harsh. _I will not fail you again._

The dragon grunted, as if to remind us of his presence. It was true, I had momentarily forgotten it was still in the room with us.

"I will … return," it rumbled, backing out the door, "One week… For your answer."

* * *

**Isildre**

It is furiously unfair, but at least it is amusing. My father is yet King and so can decree what he wishes- but I will find a way. He so enjoys these games and that is his weakness. I will win.

He will die, and I will be in charge. And everything I desire will be mine. As it is meant to be.

But for now, I will have to play this game. The human boy he has enchanted into a dragon will yet be mine. I desire him, and so I will have him.

He has already found the young man the magic has chosen, but I do not think this young man will go with him. And if he does, he will fail.

The boy will be mine. As he is meant to be. After all, the world is but my oyster.

* * *

**AN: **What? Isildre? Who could that be!? *mumbling*

So a lot of you have been leaving pretty insightful comments over the last three chapters. So much so, that I've decided to host my first-ever **REVIEW RESPONSE CORNER DELUXE!** I will now respond to the all of the chapter 3 reviews I've received thus far.

**Deva**- Well, you're about to find out. ;]

**Thewriterwannabe**- Haha sorry you found it boring. I do try.

**Fragonknight**- That _would_ be fabulous...;]

**MiseryluvsDeath**- Your pen name makes me a little bit sad. Sorry for the delay. n_n'

**TRose23**- I love your reviews! And you caught me on the whole Terrence and Bianca thing- it was sort of last minute. It's not totally random, though! It's kind of foreshadowing / amusing to the author. Draco finds the situation between them so trite. Little does he know… :D

**Ams71080**- *hands over doll* Thank you. :] It's been a few years since Hogwarts, so I'm glad Draco's grown up!

**Ranchan-Akari**- Thanks! I was kind of nervous to write it this way at first. This is my first time not using 3rd person, too.

**Simply Anonymous**- Thanks! Hope you like this chapter. :]

And that concludes** REVIEW RESPONSE CORNER DELUXE!!!!** and the longest AN ever. Leave a review and you might be featured on the next RRCD! Should I have another one.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Oh wow sorry for the huge delay! I was waiting to hear back from some possible betas but no luck. :[ And then I was way too busy to write! Hope this makes up for it... :/

Thanks for the reviews!

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**Isildre**

My father's condition is worsening. Ah, well, I suppose even Troll Kings cannot live forever. But I think of my youth and I laugh- I will be queen for centuries yet. As soon as my father is gone I will find a way to undo his sorcery. I will not waste a century and a half in waiting.

I want the human _now._

I want him more than I have ever wanted anything.

The wanting began not long ago. I was on a tour through the green lands, becoming acquainted with the habits of the human folk while scouting for new servants. It was then I saw him.

He is one of the human folk that fancy themselves magical. They are almost laughable- shooting faint lights from flimsy wooden sticks and fashioning themselves rulers of the world. They cannot begin to comprehend what I am capable of, and I need no stick.

Father says to leave them alone, however. They are more dangerous then the nonmagic humans and more aware of our presence. We are not to take them for our servants, he told me.

I suppose that is why he is furious- because I disobeyed him, and not because he is afraid. I doubt the human folk could even survive the trip to our palace, much less pose any real threat.

And besides, _I wanted him._

He was flying, and though the contraption he sat on- a large stick blossoming into a cluster of smaller twigs- looked quite ridiculous, he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

The light of the sun, golden and not white like it is in Niflheim, bathed his skin in a warm glow. His skin, soft like rose petals instead of granite hard like mine. His hair black and downy and going in all directions; mine is rough and hangs straight down even in harsh wind.

He laughed and it sounded like bottled sunlight. His voice was deep and rich and warm, so different from the grating voices of the trolls.

He had so much life, and eyes like green lightening, and he looked so graceful that I knew I must have him immediately.

So I took him against my father's wishes. I was very pleased with myself. None of the human folk saw me, and I doubted they would miss him much. After all, he had been flying alone and I know that most human folk tend to live in herds.

My father however scolded me fiercely. He said that not only had I stolen a _wizard,_ but a very famous one who would be sorely missed. He said that if the rest of the human folk discovered what had become of him, they would come to Niflheim and there would be a war.

Alright, I had said, I will put him back.

I planned to steal him again later.

No, my father had told me, I mustn't put him back or he would tell the rest that I had taken him and there would still be a war.

But out of spite, my father still forbade me to keep him. Instead, he hid him in the shape of a dragon.

As with all magics, there are loopholes and rules and deadlines that must be met. He has 150 years to free himself of the enchantment, and there is only one way. Should he fail, he will be mine.

As it stands, I will do everything in my power to see to his failure. He has completed the first task- he has found the pale boy the magics chose for him. I found the pale boy first, of course, but I am not permitted to interfere. I can only watch. I must admit I am disappointed- I had hoped the magics would lead the _wizard_ to someone old, or ugly. Instead it is this boy who, though he is human and so will always be inferior to me, has a handsome face and a pleasant voice. Perhaps when this is all over I will take him, too.

Until then I will continue to watch the human I desire. He will not succeed in this next step. He will be mine.

Forever.

**Narcissa**

"You will not go, and that is final," Lucius said. He stood to the right of my bed, his arms crossed and his expression so cold I fancied I could see an icicle hanging from the tip of his nose. Draco, to my left, was all fire- I could see the flame of it in his eyes.

And I, in the middle, suffocating with chills and heat waves. I sighed, placing a thin hand on the coverlet in a bid for silence. They continued to fight.

Sometimes I feel that it is not just my body that has become thin under this illness.

I let my eyes drift closed for a few moments and listen.

"What else can we do, Father? I'm young and healthy- I will find a way to escape before long and I won't come back any worse off then when I left," Draco was saying. Youthful idiocy at its finest; he still looks in the mirror and sees the Invincible Man staring back.

"You are not invincible, Draco," said Lucius. Ah, and there is the wisdom of age: not only _can_ you die, but you probably will.

My husband continued: "I don't doubt your ability to escape given the chance. But keep in mind that it is a _dragon,_ not a unicorn. You might very well be eaten before you've even said goodbye."

I heard Draco huff, and I didn't need to open my eyes to know what he must look like: his face would be paler than normal, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowing. His hair might be slightly askew- a tell-tale sign of emotional disturbance in my son- but his mouth would be closed. Draco can sense when his approaches are failing. Right now he would undoubtedly be thinking of a new tactic.

"When the dragon returns today, you will not leave with it," said Lucius, "There is still the man with the phoenix-"

"-Whose price would leave us homeless," Draco muttered.

True. The price the man was asking for use of his Phoenix was ridiculous and leagues above what we could afford.

I could feel my chest begin to tighten, then. Soon it would become painful and then I would be overtaken by the cough that would leave me spent and raw.

Sometimes, like now, when my breathing comes in shallow gusts that burn and rattle through my lungs, I feel it might not be so terrible to die.

And I would like to raise my voice and tell my son that he must not go sacrificing himself for me, he has done enough already. I would like to tell my husband that this illness is not his fault.

My chest tightened more and the coughing began. I could not breathe.

Would this be the last time?

I wanted to tell them both- so many things. But I could not form the breath.

And then the world around me ceased to be important; there was only the sucking in my chest and the shredding of my throat.

**Draco**

My mother was overcome by one of her coughing fits. They were steadily becoming more and more serious and more painful to watch. Her coughing, a bone-dry sound that gave me chills, seemed out of place in the living room.

We had moved her bed here a few short moments ago so she would be present when the dragon came, but now I wonder if moving her triggered the fit.

Terrible as it was, her coughing gave me the distraction I needed. The discussion between my father and I was over now, and I would let him think he had won. We had been arguing all week about it and neither one of us had changed our opinion. I was determined to go, and he was determined not to let me.

Perhaps I am making the wrong decision, as he says. I have no guarantee that the dragon will see my mother to full health, or return my family's fortune. For all I know, I might very well be the dragon's idea of a lunch.

But why would it come all the way to Muggle London if all it wanted was a snack? Perhaps I am being naïve, but I don't think the dragon will harm me.

My mother, on the other hand, is slipping closer to death each day. If there is even a chance of curing her, then I must take it.

And so I have gone against my Father's wishes. I packed a suitcase full of necessities the same night the dragon first visited. The suitcase is now shrunken and nestled in my pocket, and all I need in order to leave is the dragon.

I put a comforting hand on my mother's arm, and we waited. There was nothing more we could do.

We did not have to wait long. The sun had set, and this time I noticed when the lights blacked out. Moments later there was the loud _thud_ of the dragon landing, only this time the door swung open on its own accord.

My father, after having to repair our entire wall after the last visit, had simply expanded the size of the door tonight with a few quick charms. The dragon was able to enter easily.

It loomed- I forgot how large it was- and though we had the elec-atric lights on the room still seemed to grow dimmer.

The dragon wasted no time, immediately fixing its gaze on my father. It never looked at me, nor had it looked at me the first time it had visited. I swallowed nervously, wondering what this might mean.

By now Mother's coughing had died down, but I remained by her side, smoothing a hand down her clammy brow. She deserved a better life than this.

"Your decision…?" The dragon heaved, hunkering as close to the floor as possible.

My Father opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off smoothly.

"I have," I said, and Father looked at me with shocked apprehension. The dragon appeared not to have heard me, its head never moving an inch.

"I'll go with you," I said, raising my voice over my father's protestations. "I'm an adult and I can make my own decisions. You should have asked me in the first place." I felt ridiculous reprimanding a dragon for his manners, but my father needed to hear it too.

The dragon was very still for a moment, as if reconsidering whether he even wanted me all that much. I held my breath- I had no idea what thoughts were going through his head. I'm an excellent reader of faces, sure, but not of reptiles.

Finally he bowed his head, closing his eyes. "It is… a trade, then," he rasped, "I accept." And he began to back out the front door.

For a moment, I was confused. Was he leaving? Was I supposed to follow him?

What about Mother?

"Hey!" I shouted, in a momentary loss of cool. The dragon stopped moving and looked at me. His gaze felt like a bolt of thunder. _What an uncanny green… _It seemed almost familiar, and yet strangely out of place. I stared at him dumbly for a moment, feeling as if there was a word on the edge of my tongue begging to be spoken or an image just in the corner of my eye that I could not make out, that was begging for me to discover it.

It was the Dragon's impatient grunting that snapped me back into reality. He clearly wanted to know what the hold up was (so maybe I can read _some_ reptilian emotions).

"It's just… My mother-" I began. I could feel the back of my neck begin to heat up.

The dragon gave me another pointed look.

"You promised to help her," I finished lamely.

The dragon's shoulders rose in an exaggerated sigh, and I swear I saw him roll his eyes. I wanted to tell him that my mother was rather important to me and he shouldn't mock me for it, but then it would have been the second time I'd chastised a dragon for his manners. I can only take a certain level of ridiculousness each day before I have to call it quits.

The beast lumbered over towards my mother, who looked like a sliver of moon against the mass of black scales. I could see my father standing a few feet away, his face white with fury. He was too angry with me to try to stop me from going now.

I felt a brief tug of regret, but I'm sure he will forgive me once Mother is healed.

My mother was gazing up at the dragon, eyes round as two galleons, and the dragon was staring back. What would he do? Breathe fire? Cry? Bleed?

A few minutes passed and the suspense lowered into an awkward silence. The dragon had not moved.

I was beginning to doubt it had any healing powers at all.

Finally- _finally_- the dragon shifted. It stiffened, its tail going ramrod straight and its neck pulling in. A tremor shook down the dragon's spine, and then another. It sucked in air and uneven gusts, its eyes twitch closed and a low rumble started in its throat. The rumbling grew louder and the tremors turned into full blown trembling. It raised its head like a whip, and _sneezed_. On my _Mother._

And other than a short bark of laughter, she was unchanged.

The dragon looked over its shoulder at me- _is that good enough for you?_- it seemed to say.

Frankly, no, it wasn't good enough. I had _not_ just traded my life for a dragon to _sneeze_ on my mother.

I folded my arms in response, giving it the most withering stare I could manage.

The dragon made a low grumbling noise and began to back out towards the door again. "Wait…" he said, "It takes… time. Now come… with me.. You are safe."

The dragon's head disappeared out the front door, but I could still see its hulking frame on the porch.

"Well…" I muttered, looking at my father, "I suppose this is goodbye."

"Idiotic," Was his simple reply. Not the first time I've heard it from him, so no harm done. Perhaps it was the first time it was true, however.

I should have had the dragon heal Mother _before_ swearing I'd go with him. Now I still had to leave- a promise is a promise- but I would leave without knowing for sure what would become of my family.

I sighed, grazing my father's shoulder with my hand as I walked out.

"Goodbye, Mother," I said over my shoulder but she didn't hear me. Sometime after being sneezed upon she had fallen asleep.

**Dragon**

Grey like memories,

Like shadows.

Another world, another life…

I cannot recall.

Grey and pale like the moon,

Like a promise,

He will free me.

But there is another grey

I remember too,

Another grey like jagged stones.

Harsh winter grey,

Hopeless grey-

Waiting.

Please,

The pale queen,

I can smell her in the air,

Like frostbite.

He smells like meadows.

**Draco**

The dragon was waiting outside for me, his expression almost sorrowful. Perhaps he felt bad for taking me from my family?

But that made no sense- it was his choice to take me. He could have very well 'healed' my mother without carting me away as well.

He grunted again (I guess words are just too difficult to manage all the time) and I looked at him.

He was crouched as low to the ground as he could get, his head pressed fully against the floor. The spikes along his back were flattening down, blending in with his scales.

Cool trick, I thought, but I didn't fully understand his intention.

The dragon lifted one eye towards me.

"Climb."

Then it became clear- he intended for me to ride him to wherever we were going. I approached him hesitantly. I'd never touched a dragon before, and I don't care if Potter battled one in fourth year, this thing was _huge. _I traced a scale with my finger, and he tensed.

It felt cool to the touch, which was surprising. I'd always thought a dragon would be burning hot, but his scales were slightly colder than the surrounding air and they felt like polished rock rather than glass, which was how they looked. Carefully and none too gracefully I clambered onto his back, using the joint between his wing and his body to pull myself up.

It took me a while to find some way to sit, but I finally found a stable position just behind is neck and in front of his wings. I managed to get a hold of one of the spikes on his neck that was still sticking up, and before I knew it we were climbing through the air.

_To where?_

_

* * *

_**AN: **Well there it is! I hope you liked it.

Will Draco figure out what's happening, or will he be too late?

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Draco**

I clung to the dragon's back for dear life, the cruel ocean below me glittering like pointed teeth.

I was beginning to think that, perhaps, I hadn't exactly thought this all the way through.

We had definitely left the country, meaning I couldn't just apparate back to my home when I got the chance. And I had no idea where exactly we were headed. Italy? Sweden? Or somewhere in Asia?

I shifted as much as I was able- dragons aren't half as comfortable as a good broom, no matter how much more interesting they look. My hands were cramping but I was terrified to loosen my grip. My immediate plans do not include a sudden, watery death.

At least it seemed the dragon was keeping me in mind. He was flying slowly and steadily and most importantly _straightly_, but I didn't trust him to catch me if I fell.

I swallowed nervously, eyeing the ocean far below me once again. That wasn't his plan, was it? To let me fall?

But that would be pointless. And stupid. And improbable.

I clenched my knees tighter against his back, anyway, and closed my eyes. The faces of my father and mother hovered before me in the darkness. My father, white and angry and sad. My mother pale as death and just as far away.

I poured over their faces in my mind, memorizing every curve and line. I didn't know when I would see them again, if I ever would.

It seemed like endless hours passed. The ocean gradually turned back into land, and my ass literally felt like it was being sawed in half. All in all, it was turning into one of the most painful trips of my life.

Yes, once the novelty wears off, riding a dragon is _agonizing, _and I don't recommend it.

I was only half paying attention to my surroundings when I realized that the dragon was angling upwards and we were approaching the largest mountain I think I've ever seen. The air was thinning and had an iciness that bit right through my clothes. I shivered, my nose stinging with cold. _Can't we just go _around_ the really big, imposing mountain?_ I thought bitterly.

Then I noticed that at the top, a thin tendril of smoke was coming out of what looked like a rocky chimney. And hidden in the mountainside there were _windows._

It was a castle. On a mountain. Or … in a mountain, maybe is more like it. I couldn't tell where the mountain ended and where the castle began- they were both made of the same seamless rock.

Not at all flashy like the manor had been, but it was huge. Large enough for a dragon, anyway.

The dragon rocketed upwards towards the very highest point of the mountain castle, which looked like a jagged tower made of rock. Once we were over it I could see that the tower, unlike the rest of the castle, was uncovered to the sky. Slowly, carefully, the dragon circled down through the opening and into the tower.

The tower itself was empty; just a smooth, hollow circle of impenetrable rock topped by a halo of sky. The bottom of the tower, however, opened into a giant room which made the dragon seem almost normal in size. It was in this room that we landed.

I gingerly slid from the dragon's back only to find that my legs, stiff and shaking with pain, wouldn't support me. I hit the floor (which was thankfully covered with extremely plush carpet) and after a few hazy thoughts, mostly along the lines of _I need to find a way out, _I lost consciousness.

It would have happened to anybody. Really, I'm not making excuses. I'm a fit young man but I hadn't eaten or slept for God knows how long, I had spent the same unknown amount of time thinking that I was going to fall to a very messy death any minute, and the air in the castle was thinner than Potter in first year.

I wasn't out for very long, I don't think. I came to slowly, letting myself sink into the carpet a little before opening my eyes. I was met with the vision of a dragon's snout inches from my face, which had I been a weaker man might have knocked me out all over again.

He was staring at me with those weird eyes, and if I hadn't already had chills from passing out I think he would have given them to me anyway.

I was tired. Too tired to deal with the dragon staring at me like I was something to eat, too tired to think about my parents, too tired to figure out how I would return to them. All of my muscles were screaming and my lungs hurt, and I was too tired to deal with it.

There was no one here to impress. Just a dragon- and perhaps he'd be less likely to eat me if he found me pathetic. I was too tired to care. I closed my eyes again and let the world drift away.

I awoke in a strange room on a bed that was definitely not mine. It was massive, easily twice as large as my bed at home. The comforter and sheets were neutral shades of beige and chocolate brown, which was a far cry from the Slytherin green of my own room.

But despite the rooms general unattractiveness (beige!?), the bed was the most comfortable I'd been in since we left the manor. I would have happily snuggled back into the pillow but for one thing- I couldn't remember where the hell I was.

I pulled myself into a sitting position and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. No one else was in the bed with me, which was both a relief and a frustration. If I hadn't gone home with someone then where the hell was-

Oh. _Oh._

The dragon. I was in the dragon's home.

Which might as well have been in Antarctica, for all I knew.

I clenched my fists together in frustration and gave the mattress one good hit. No one was there to see me and I was beyond frustrated. Without knowing where I was, I had no idea how to make my way home.

And how had I ended up in this _bed?_

I closed my eyes, thinking back. I didn't remember walking here, but I had some vague recollection of being moved.

I remembered coming half awake as someone lifted me with strong but careful hands, of being held against a flat chest. And it must have been dark, or perhaps I was dreaming, for I was unable to see who was carrying me.

I considered being embarrassed for putting myself in such a vulnerable position, but quickly chose rather to be excited. If someone had carried me here, then maybe I could find them in the castle. I could speak to them, find out where I was, maybe even find out what the dragon wanted with me.

If someone had carried me here, it meant that _I was not alone._ And that more than anything filled me with a new sense of hope.

**Narcissa**

I did not regain consciousness until the next morning.

Lucius was seated beside my bed, his face a mask of indifference. But he was so white, as if he had been drained of blood completely that I knew in an instant what had happened.

Draco had disobeyed. My son was gone.

And for what? He had sacrificed his life in hopes of saving mine, and yet I felt no different than I had yesterday. Except, perhaps, I had one thing less to live for.

I looked to Lucius, saw the desolation digging tunnels in his eyes. He would take Draco's stupid decision and turn it into another weapon against himself, another vehicle upon which he could pile on more self-blame. It was disgusting.

I love my husband, but I fear I am losing him just as he must fear he is losing me.

I refused to let him wallow in his self-loathing, and I refused to let my son's idiotic, albeit noble sacrifice go completely to waste.

At that moment I decided, as I had not decided before, that I not only wanted to live, but that I _would._

My family needed me. I had never abandoned them before, and I refused to do so now.

* * *

**AN**: really short dumb chapter after a disgustingly long wait. I'm a terrible person.

sorry, I've just not had very much time nor have I been very inspired. getting out this chapter (if you can call it that) was incredibly difficult and you can probably tell by the quality of the writing. Hopefully after a good night's sleep I'll be able to write something much better tomorrow...

once again, sorry this sucks, and sorry for making you wait so long. But thanks for reading! and leaving a nice review really makes me far more likely to write, by the way, so thanks those of you who have. :] here's to a better next chapter!


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